Here we are.
The tall gates of John Hardley's villa loom before us. Kimberly, in addition to the long black cloak, is now also wearing a wig. She's visibly tense — much more than I am.
I press the intercom, and a moment later a female voice answers — a voice that makes my nerves spike just hearing it.
Alex's.
«You're late tonight, my dear Jace.»
«I had a setback,» I reply curtly.
Yeah. A setback called an evening of unrestrained sex on the grass. We were supposed to finish by midnight so we could be here by one — the time I usually arrive. But truth be told, at midnight we were still naked and tangled together in Central Park, rolling around in a puddle of Kimberly's orgasms like pigs in the mud.
«And who would your little friend be?» Alex asks.
Kimberly slightly pulls back her hood, showing the camera a pair of gleaming blood-red eyes.
